Breathtakingly Beautiful

Ever closed your eyes and let it brush by you. Felt it’s pull against your hair and its soft pressure against your skin. Like hundreds of playful cotton-balls trying to tickle you. More gentle than feathers or even the grasp of a child’s hand, the wind nudges you towards simple, contended, happiness. A place where there is wonder and peace and the only noise is the almost unheard whisper of dreams and future adventures. Subtle and undemanding, the wind comes and goes all too often inexperienced. But for those who give in to the beckoning of the wind . . . well, they know what I’m talking about. How about you?

The soft feel of a small hand inside my own is one of my favorite feelings of all. Those tiny fingers, held by mine, depend on me to guide. Depend on me to protect.

However, that’s not all. That small hand depends on me for love. The gentle way my child holds my hand is proof that my child needs nurturing. My little one needs to see me expressing love for them to understand what love is and how love feels.

In their own small way, my child loves me back. His or her love is not perfect right now. It is often a selfish love, for they love me because of what I do for them. However, it is the beginning of a better, more mature love. So it is a necessary step towards becoming their best self. Moreover, while it is a young, undeveloped love, it is none the less a sincere love.

Thus, I love my child and I become a better person. My child sees my love and tries their best to love me back, and grows into a mature adult. Both our loves, different in degrees and styles, are necessary.